Counting Down the Seconds
by CookiesandCranberries
Summary: Phan! In an alternate universe where everyone has numbers branded onto their skin, counting down until the moment they meet their soulmate, Dan's numbers are still. Who and where is his soul mate? Does he even have one? And if he does, what will his father have to say about them? Contains self harm, suicidal notions, homophobic slurs and violence/abuse. T for swearing and violence.
1. Chapter 1 - Olivia Bridge

**Chapter 1 – Olivia Bridge**

Dan stood on the edge of the Olivia Bridge, exhaling a stream of smoke from the cigarette he held in his left hand. He told himself he liked the view, he told himself that he had came here because he needed some fresh air, even though it was December and freezing outside. Not because his grades, once fine, were sinking to substandard. Not because his arms were still sore from where the bullies at school had beat him up a week ago. Not because his life was utterly and unquestionably crap. Dan rolled up his sleeve and stared at his tattoo on his wrist, the one he had been born with. The countdown was stuck. The numbers, which had flowed freely, counting down the time until Dan met his soul mate, had suddenly stopped on his 14th birthday - the birthday in which Dan had first researched the height he had to jump off to die. Conveniently, a bridge that height was located a short bus ride away from Dan's house. The countdown had stopped right at the moment that Dan found the bridge. Dan had debated asking why, asking how, but realised that his father would, in a drunken evening at the bar, probably tell the whole street. No, scrap that, the whole school would soon know. All of those idiotic jocks would laugh at it, and Dan would be ridiculed even more. He imagined it now:

'Hey look, there's freak. Did you know that his number stopped?'

'His girl probably took one look of his ugly face on a photo and killed herself!'

So he told no-one. It wasn't hard, his father never bothered asking him about his life, and his mum was always too tired to talk to him. Instead he covered it up with long sleeves and plasters. He was now sixteen, and the number showed no sign of starting again. Dan had put it down to suicide, or maybe falling in love with a different person, or maybe one of them was destined to die before they could meet. And now the voices had started whispering in his mind again, just like they did for the first time on his fourteenth birthday, telling him he wasn't good enough to have a soul mate, that no one would want _him_ as a soul mate anyway, he should be glad the number had stopped so that he would never have to explain to some poor girl just how much of a colossal fail he was. He should be happy. Now nobody would be disappointed if he stepped off Olivia Bridge. He had nobody to live for – not even a soul mate, which even his despicable brother deserved.

Adrian, his brother, had an unusually short number, and his whole family was excited. They'd marked the date on the calendar already, circled it twice in red pen. Sometimes, when Adrian was feeling particularly generous, he'd ask Dan about his number, but all Dan had to do was blank him before Adrian had even forgotten about the question. That was the sort of boy he was – ungrateful, greedy, self absorbed but good at sports and popular. Dan had always hated him, but his father had instantly seen himself in his second son and went about raising him as spoilt he could.

However, even though Dan was mostly left to his own resources and ignored, that didn't mean he could do whatever he wanted – far from it. Any wrong step and his father would condemn him for 'bringing shame to the family', or whatever that meant. His father's twisted, hypocritical ideals were forever branded in Dan's memory when his father had caught Adrian smoking in the back yard. He was twelve back then, Dan fourteen. Without even asking for an explanation, his father had stomped up to Dan's room and blamed Dan. Dan could still smell the hint of alcohol on his breath, hear the raspy voice telling him that he was ruining Adrian's life by teaching him to smoke, feel the raw pain and anger and helplessness. Dan had never touched a cigarette then. Today he carefully put out the stubs in the alleyway behind his school and relished in this little part of rebellion that he could enjoy. Adrian hadn't stopped smoking either, but Dan saw the terrified look that Adrien had had when he had come into Dan's room that night, maybe to pose an apology, but saying nothing instead, and figured that was why he always smoked far, far away from his father. Maybe with the rugby crowd instead.

Dan had been sent to buy bread from the corner shop, 5 minutes away from his house. He had been gone for an hour. He was pretty sure it was better not to return, to jump – the water seemed so welcoming – but slowly, painfully he stepped down from the stone wall and made his way home, to be shouted at.

It just turned out that that night was the last straw. Dan had finally had enough of being abused. As the weak rays of sunrise reached into his house, Dan had already hitched his empty bag onto his shoulder. He stepped out of his house and plodded 'to school'. Last night, however, he had decided he would not be going anywhere near that prison-like building. Adrian did not go to the same school as he did, he went to a sports academy, so he couldn't rat Dan out too soon, and it didn't really matter what the school would do once they eventually found out he was missing. Dan was going to Olivia Bridge. Today was the day.

When, a long time ago, Dan was making his plans, he noticed that there was irony behind the bridge he was going to being called 'Olivia' Bridge. Apparently, it was called this way because on it, on one frosty morning a few years ago, Olivia Bell's car had spiralled out of control, and she had fell to her death in the icy water.

After his research, Dan realised he had no one to write his note to. There was absolutely nobody he cared for. Perhaps his mum would cry at his funeral, if his father thought it was necessary to have one. Strangely, Dan thought he'd be more emotional when he stood yet again on Olivia Bridge, maybe shed a tear for that fond memory of his hamster in year two, but all he could remember was coming home one day to find that his perfectly healthy, young hamster had passed away. Maybe his father had finally had enough of the sounds his nocturnal friend had made. All Dan could remember was his father's drunken, mad face. He hated himself for being so weak and so untalented and useless, he hated himself for never standing up for himself. Never mind. Soon it would be over.

Dan's frozen fingertips fumbled with the buttons on his black coat. He tried for a while, then gave up unbuttoning it and taking it off. He'd jump like this. His shoe hovered over the edge of the stone wall of the bridge, his eyes shut, and his mind egged him on silently. Dan imagined falling, finally free. It would be so easy. He was there, he leant over, and just as his centre of gravity was tipping him over the bridge, Dan's eyes snapped open. He wouldn't do it. He wouldn't. He stepped back, stumbling off the wall. He couldn't even do it. He was too weak. Dan suddenly felt a peculiar pull at his wrist, and it started to burn. He rolled his sleeve up and stared, dumbfounded, at his wrist. started to form in his eyes from the burning pain, and he collapsed onto the ground, clutching his arm. Just as he saw blackness in the corners of his sight and was about to relish in sweet unconsciousness, the pain stopped. The numbers were moving again.

The cause of the stopped numbers were his suicidal plans. Of course, he should've guessed earlier. But maybe Dan wasn't as broken, as weird, as he had thought before.


	2. Chapter 2 - Unrelenting

**Chapter 2 - Unrelenting**

 _Author's note: Y'all, no laughing because I used a cliché prompt I know I'm a silly squirrel with no originality but bear with me this thing is fun to do_

Cold, pale and fluffy snowflakes landed on the still hot numbers melting instantly, and, for the first time in what felt like years, Dan smiled.

2:12:2:45, 2:12:2:44, the numbers ticked. Two and a half days. Too goddamn soon. Sooner than Adrian's. Sooner than many people in his class; he'd seen people his age with years left to wait. Dan had never had a crush. Strange, yes? And it wasn't just the fact that nobody wanted the freak as their boyfriend, it was that Dan didn't really feel attracted to anyone. Sure he'd had Louisa in year 6, but that hardly counted – they were twelve and they'd gone out for two days. And he was more popular, certainly less hated in primary school. Dan felt only apprehension bubbling up in his stomach, and when he raised his hands to get out a cigarette he saw they were trembling. Why was he so afraid? He'd heard stories of adorable countdown endings, of roses presented to the final right person and kisses exchanged when they've finally, _finally_ found the one for them. He wondered how he'd react. He wondered what she'd be like. He wondered whether, if he had jumped off the bridge, her numbers would start again, synchronised with another person. Dan looked up towards the clear winter sky and let the clumps of snow settle on his eyelashes, making him blink. Maybe the snow would stick, and England would have its first white Christmas in three years. Dan lit a cigarette and trailed slowly towards the bus stop. He was already late to school; it wouldn't change anything if he was later.

"Daniel Howell" read out the substitute teacher from the register, pushing up her glasses and looking around the classroom. "Daniel Howell? Does anyone know where he is?"

She was met with blank looks.

"He wasn't there in registration, either.", piped up a blonde girl with a self contented smile, sitting on the back row "I don't think he was, that is." She then whispered something to the friend next to her, and they sniggered quietly.

Dan Howell, in fact, was in school by that time. He was just skipping that class (Economics) because he was always bored to hell by it. He didn't care about the economy of Nigeria, and neither did anyone else in that room. But they cared about the standardised examinations. After he had signed in to what was unofficially called the 'late-as-heck-what-is-your-explanation book', Dan slipped into the lunch hall at break and sat down, alone. His soul mate couldn't be anyone at his school, thank god. He hated everyone in it. He had hoped to finish his food before his year had been let out and they could come to lunch, but he was too slow.

"Hey punk", growled a voice over his shoulder. "I told you to eat outside the lunch hall."

"I don't think you have a right to tell me where to eat lunch.", replied Dan, trying not to let his voice crack.

Lunch had ended. Dan was still in the bathroom, lying in a toilet cubicle. When he reached up to touch his head, he found his hair was wet, and his fingers came away red. The tears came fast and heavy, and suddenly Dan felt so much goddamn pain inside that he keeled over, burying his face in his knees. His wet fingers reached for the sharpener inside his pencil case, anything to release the pain, but that hesitated. Instead, Dan slowly got up, supporting himself by pushing up on the toilet. He needed to get out of this hellhole, and go to another one, where he at least had a private room.

Dan drew the curtains in his room, so that the streetlights' artificial glare was muted and picked up his blade. His father was most likely at the bar, and his mum was at work. He wondered why fate had cursed her with such a horrendous soul mate. He still couldn't figure it out. He swiped methodically at his arm, one, two, three, ten cuts. He wondered why fate had cursed his soul mate with such a broken person. Eleven, twelve, fifteen cuts. It stung pleasantly, blood droplets forming in perfect circle on the thin lines. The one thing that, for some reason, he daren't touch was his number. It didn't deserve the pain. Twenty cuts. The blade dropped to the floor and Dan stared up at his plain ceiling, finding patterns in the plaster. Then tears blurred his eyesight, he was such a stupid cry baby – that's all he could do, cry. And he had no one, no one in the empty goddamn house. No one in his empty goddamn life. And he shouldn't drag anyone into it. Dan slowly got up and went to the bathroom to rinse his arm.

2:3:29:55

Now Dan wished the relentless ticking of the numbers had never stopped. They were pushing him toward something he could never escape. He realised how stupid he sounded:

"Oh, well I wanted this thing for most of my life but now that I've got it I don't want it, boo hoo.", but he didn't really care. What did it matter. Maybe he should just let it happen.

Dan flinched as the door opened, and quickly pulled down his sleeve over his arm, wincing. His father and Adrian had just come home (Adrian was picked up from school every day), and his mum wouldn't be long. Dan picked up his textbooks and attempted to do homework.

2:1:01:12

Dan couldn't stop staring at the number. He couldn't focus on homework. He couldn't focus on anything, and he was wide awake (awake, like every night - this resulted in some pretty dark circles and heavy bags - thanks, insomnia) so he shoved some earbuds in to quell the voice inside his head and cranked up the music until he could feel his skull vibrating. This way, it was impossible to think, and thought was always his worst enemy.


	3. Chapter 3 - Fulfilment

**Chapter 3 - Fulfilment**

Phil stared in amazement at his wrist, letting the shower head he had been holding drop into the bath. His number had stopped two years ago, and when he had told his parents they had cried and through tears said that his soul mate had died. Just like that. And Phil had cried too, but only that night, when the shadows were long and he could hide his tears in a pillow. And every time he saw his best friend's number ticking down, his ever shining smile lessened, but oh so little, so nobody ever noticed. Of course, PJ knew of his predicament and so was reluctant to talk about his number whenever Phil was present, but on the night that the number neared zero, he needed Phil's support - so the two of them took the day off lessons and strolled through the nearby park. Phil had never seen PJ so on-edge, but he would also never forget the joy mingled with fulfilment in his friend's eyes, and even though he tried ever so hard to feel as happy as he could for his friend, he felt a dagger of pain and unfairness pierce his heart - especially in the following weeks when he realised just how well Chris and PJ suited each other. He could never, ever be fulfilled like this.

So when he looked down at his wrist, after feeling a strange pulling sensation, and saw his numbers ticking again, he could scarcely believe it. He turned off the water, and, not being able to help it, let out a loud whoop of sheer joy, then leapt out of the bath and flung on a top and some pants, rushing out of the room to greet PJ with the news. And god, the number was short. Fulfilment was coming so soon.

On the same day Phil rang up his parents, and asked them why this could've happened, but they were just as bemused yet thrilled as he was, their voices quickening to an almost unintelligible speed – honestly though, it didn't matter why, or how, at least to him. He spent the following two days in a happy blur, beaming at everyone around him, and his usually friendly and bubbly personality seemed to have been magnified to an almost mocking point – but Phil wasn't being silly, and wasn't faking it either. Chris and PJ did tease him about it, however it was all in jest - as really they were overjoyed for Phil.

And finally, it was the day. PJ had wanted to come with Phil but Phil's gut insisted that he go alone, so PJ hugged him tightly and wished him on his way. Phil wrapped a thick blue scarf around his neck to face the frost outside, and decided to go to a coffee shop a metro ride away. He knew it didn't matter where he went, anyway. He caught a metro, trying to act nonchalant and failing - Phil found himself glancing at the number, almost in fear that it would stop again. Would she be pretty? Or maybe he? Phil didn't care, really. He tried not to imagine them, whoever they were. Why should he?

4:56

Just five minutes left. Dan ordered himself a black coffee and some sort of cake, which was unusual for him. He sat down at a table for two, next to a window where he could at least distract himself by watching the snow fall outside. It was probably going to be a white Christmas. Dan squeezed his eyes shut and tried to calm his pounding heart. Unable to resist, Dan opened his eyes, took his hand from the warm cup and flipped it over, eager not to miss the miss the moment the numbers struck zero.

1:02

Dan suddenly realised he hadn't grabbed a fork to eat the cake with. He stood up and walked up to the cashier, all the while keeping his eyes on his wrist.

29

The cashier gave Dan his cutlery and looked sympathetically towards him, well aware of the situation as Dan didn't even look from his wrist when speaking to him.

"Good luck!", he said as he passed the fork over. Dan smiled and made his way back to his seat.

10

Dan had forgotten about the cake. He bit his lip, tearing off small pieces of skin. 'Way to go Dan, meeting your soul mate with a bloody lip', said a voice somewhere inside him, but he ignored it.

3

"Is this seat taken?", a gentle voice asked behind Dan's shoulder. This is it, he was finally going to meet her.

1

Heart pounding, Dan turned around and a pair of eyes as blue as the sky, lit up with a hesitant smile, looked back at him. Slender fingers played nervously with the tassels of a scarf that matched the eye colour perfectly. Dan saw the genuine shyness and the adorable worry, and reflected that he probably looked the same way, if not worse. Drawing breath, he managed a shaky:

"Yeah. I mean no, no its not, you can sit there. That is, if you want to! Of course. Yeah."

He choked out an awkward laugh, and as the new boy sat down, asked him quietly "So, is yours zero, too?"

The warm coffee shop proved the perfect meeting place. Both Dan and Phil had heard of amazing, extraordinary places to meet, but just for two perfectly ordinary, if only for this night, boys to meet in a perfectly ordinary place, both of them couldn't imagine a better setting. The cashier who had given the fork to Dan earlier came over and provided them with candles and a rose to set on the table, smiling warmly, and for once Dan felt completely happy. This was the beginning of a fresh start! A soul mate, huh? A perfect fit? It certainly felt that way. As Dan observed the lovely way the candle cast shadows over Phil's face, Phil gazed over Dan's animated features and his warm chocolate eyes*, and used the name 'Dan' as many times as he could, because he couldn't imagine a better one at the moment. And he finally understood what the fulfilment he had sought truly meant. He had sought love, and after that evening in the coffee shop, just talking, both boys were resolutely sure that there was such a thing as love as first sight. There really was.

Adrian shivered from the cold and whipped out his phone to call a taxi. He'd seen enough gooey idiocy to last him a whole lifetime. He didn't know what it was that made him trail his brother that night – maybe the unusually high spirits, maybe the fact that Dan had kissed his extremely surprised mum goodbye, or maybe Adrian was just plain bored, but now he'd have enough ammunition against his brother for years. That faggot. He didn't know that Dan was gay, but the fact didn't surprise him as much as he felt it should have. Dan was always different – cold somehow, indifferent to glances that girls gave him when they were on holiday if they thought Dan was cute, and Dan had never shown interest in any pretty girl. It pissed Adrian off for some time, since he couldn't figure out how, but he forgot about it soon enough, just like he forgot most things about his brother. He scoffed at his brother's happiness. Freak didn't deserve to be happy. His dad was always ranting to Adrian about how much of a fail he was - and now Adrian knew he was a faggot as well.

* _Author's Note: Yes I went there. I used stupid descriptions of eye colours. I just think this scene is too cute!_


	4. Chapter 4 - Glass Bird

**Chapter 4 – Glass Bird**

Adrian knew Dan would only be back in around two hours. Dan was home hardly any evening nowadays, and left the house with the excuse that he needed to work on a school project with a friend. Adrian scoffed at it - as if Dan had any friends, save that stupid boy. Never mind, Adrian would get him back for his lies. He walked into Dan's room, carefully shutting the door behind him – it just wouldn't do to be found by his mum – and took Dan's laptop from his bed, an old Toshiba thing that weighed half a ton, heaving it onto the desk. Password protected? No problem, Adrian had saw Dan type his password in when they went on the last family trip and Dan spent most of his time using the laptop – he doubted that Dan had changed it. With a satisfying ping, the lock screen vanished and Adrian was left to trawl through Dan's computer. The first thing he opened was his email.

He talked to a boy called 'amazingphil' quite a lot. So it was Phil, then? Sounds right.

Then he went through Dan's history, searching for any social media site account visits or other like things. Soon, he had gathered all the information he needed, as well as short excerpts of conversations, but unfortunately it seemed Dan and Phil talked mostly in person, or over Skype. Adrian nearly dropped the computer when he heard the front door open. Drat, had it already been two hours? He'd lost track of time completely. Shoving the laptop back onto the bed, Adrian lunged towards Dan's wardrobe and hid inside it, his heart threatening to leap out of his chest. Crap. Had he forgotten to close the history tab? He wasn't sure… He couldn't do anything about it anyway.

Dan walked into his room, humming. He hadn't, in fact, been with Phil today – Phil was spending the day at his parents' house. Dan wished he could be in the same situation, his own house, his own life. He wouldn't mind sharing, of course, but what he would give to get away from his father. No, since Dan had an evening to himself he had decided to go to town to get his Christmas shopping done, not like he had much of it, but with the little pocket money he had left from when his father had actually given his inessential money he had purchased a Christmas present for Phil. He thought it was beautiful, and aptly so. It was a trinket, and on top of it stood a glass figure of a small bird, with eyes looking intelligently at you, elegantly perched on a branch. It was made to order, and he had no idea how the maker had created it so finely, and the bird so lifelike - the colours seemed to come naturally and yet they were translucent, letting light dance through them and create a fine shadow on the other side, its feathers were carved into the glass and looked almost soft to touch. Its beak was half open, as if in song, and the present was wrapped in tissue paper with printed birds dancing around snowflakes. Dan carefully unwrapped it and looked at it through lamplight one last time before gently packing it back up and putting it in his drawer. Perfect.

Dan went back downstairs to get something, and Adrian took the chance to dart into his own room. The bird had been so beautiful… but surely Dan wouldn't buy himself such a thing. It had to be for Phil. A strange smile spread across Adrian's face.

It was three in the morning. Dan squinted again at the sleepy face on his Skype screen, and smiled.

"Phil, why do you insist on doing this? You know I stay up late, but I'm not making you! We can talk tomorrow, go to sleep!"

"I'm not tired at all. Promise! Plus, I want to talk to you as much as possible.". This was accompanied by the best angelic smile.

To tell truth, Dan wanted badly to tell Phil how much he appreciated him doing this, and how much he didn't want him to stop. But he didn't dare, for Phil wasn't made for staying up this late. Dan's health had improved so much, and listening to Phil talk about his day silenced Dan's old friend, the voice inside his head. He was the happiest he'd been in a long while, maybe ever. Only one thing was nagging at him. Phil didn't know anything about Dan's life, whereas Dan couldn't say he same about Phil's. It wasn't as if Dan shut Phil down if he started to ask questions about Dan's life, but he redirected the conversation elsewhere, and since Dan was an expert at avoiding talking about something, Phil wasn't too worried. Or at least Dan hoped he wasn't, he hoped Phil saw him as a normal guy. Could he keep up the pretence for long, everything being as per usual, in front of both Phil and his family? Dan didn't know. Adrian had been acting kind of strange, certainly more hostile than usual, and whenever Phil thought Dan wasn't looking he would throw worried glances at him. Shaking his head, Dan convinced himself that those two things were just his mind playing tricks on him.

"Hey? You still there? Should I be worried about you?", Phil cracked a grin. "Going off on your own thoughts all the time."

"You're not my mother, Phil!", Dan replied, laughing into his duvet, his brow smoothing.

"And who knows, maybe with all this thought power I'll be a famous philosopher one day. Just you wait."

"Yeah suure. The philosophy of whom? A teenager on the internet. I'm sure plenty of people will listen to that."

"Maybe they will…"

"Have you heard, by the way, there's a new Pokémon game that's just come out?"

"Of course! It's only compatible with the new DS version though, so I don't have it."

"Yeah, but I have a DS like that…. And Martyn has one too, I'm sure he won't mind me taking it…. Are you free next Saturday?"

"That's super cool! I'll definitely ask." Dan had no intention of doing so, seeing as he knew nobody would notice if he left the house or not, but he felt most people his age had to have parental permission. He'd be there.

"And also.."

The conversation continued far into the night.

Dan was deep in thought when he realised that Phil had fallen asleep, right there on his keyboard. Dan rested his head in his arms and tried not to laugh. Not tired, huh? Dan didn't notice when his own eyes began to droop, and soon both boys were fast asleep.

Dan awoke to abruptly, the kind people do when they suddenly realise that they've slept in and jerk their heads up, pull their clothes on and grab their bags to go. The Skype call was still open. He saw Phil looking back at him, and cursed under his breath.

"Why didn't you wake me up?"

"How? You sleep like a log! Soon as I woke up, I called your name and everything. Do you know you snore? Quietly, though. It's cute!"

At this Dan felt himself turn a few shades pinker both at that and the fact that Phil was watching him sleep, and an awkward smile tilted the corners of his lips up.

"Why are you still here? You'll be late for school, too."

"My first lesson is a free. Promised to meet up with friends, but oh well. Felt like waiting for you to wake up."


	5. Chapter 5 - Pokémon

**Chapter 5 -** **Pokémon**

Dan took a deep breath, and raised his hand to knock on his father's door. The holidays were here now, and save going out with Phil Dan had spent most of his days holed up in his room, computer beside him. He hadn't seen his father in at least a week now, and it suited him just fine.

Christmas, for Dan, had always been a terrible time. He felt the pressure on him to act normal and happy, just like a normal kid should, and sometimes it near killed him. He didn't care for the presents, as most of the time they were clothes, or on happier days Adrian's hand-me-down electronics (last year he had gotten Adrian's old iPod, which had a cracked and broken screen). At the 'fun, family' Christmas lunch, he wished and prayed to get out from the table, as the constant berating of his achievement and praise of Adrian's sickened him, and since Dan didn't usually eat very much but in this instance was forced to shove half a turkey down his throat, he was routinely sick, every year. Once, and only once, when Dan was very little, his mum's sister had come over. He didn't remember much of her, except that she was very beautiful. And very nice. And looked very similar to his mum. But all the time, there was an intense feeling of unease around the table.

"Hey Dan?", Phil said, eyes still on the screen as he swiped the screen of his DS in an intense Pokémon battle with Dan.

"Mhm?", replied Dan, just as absorbed in the game, and sipped at the bottle of coke standing beside him.

"I know it's a lot to ask, hah, I have to admit I don't really know any person that wouldn't want to spend Christmas at home, but _goddamnit not a water type, my poor Vespion_ as a favour to me – _rain dance?_ \- would you possibly spend Christmas with me? whatever you want – _how good at this game are you?_ \- but I was thinking like a sleepover from the 24th to the 25th? and you could have Christmas lunch with us?"

Dan froze, and nearly spat out his drink.

Phil, worried, backtracked. "Of course if you don't want to you don't need to! I'm sorry! Just it's the first year that Martyn's got his girlfriend aroun-"

"No. No, I, of course I want to! I mean, why not try something new? I'd love to! I'm sure my family won't mind that much-"

Dan put down his DS just in time, as Phil tackle hugged him, sending them both to the ground, giggling like like girls. And when Phil couldn't see him, Dan was about to say it, about to just say it: "I love you…" but he just mouthed "Thank-you" into Phil's shoulder - which smelt of gingerbread, as they'd just been making cookies together, and Phil smiled into Dan's shoulder.

Phil had invited him over for Christmas. Dan didn't know why – surely normal people spent Christmas with their families, and that was (he hoped) all that Dan was in Phil's eyes – a normal person. And normal people didn't react so strangely, so emotionally to an invite. However, for whatever reason, Phil _had_ invited him. And Dan was SO grateful.

Now he guessed it wouldn't be as easy as just an invite. He had to deal with his father. Dan brought his knuckles down twice on the wood, and after hearing a reply, went in. Maybe this could go without a full blown argument, but Dan doubted it. However, if in the end he was let to got to 'a friend's' on Christmas, it would all be worth it.

Dan absolutely, 100% could not believe it. He hadn't had a plea to which his father had said yes to in what, years? Maybe not ever. Sometimes his father refused just to spite him, and as he grew older Dan fully realised this.

A miracle had happened. Maybe it was because his father had been absorbed in writing something on his mac or any other combination of factors, but in his clipped answers his father irritably declared that this year, he didn't really care what Dan was doing for Christmas. And Dan could jump for joy, quietly, outside his father's door. Suddenly, Dan saw a shadow move, and Adrian slipped into the hallway. He had an unusually sour look, and was looking at Dan suspiciously.

Dan didn't speak to him. They usually didn't speak, if they could avoid it. Dan had tried to for the first few years, excited to have a little brother which could be his friend, his cohort, but then Adrian made clear that Dan was dirt in his eyes and Dan never tried again.

Usually Dan didn't make any effort towards being festive. He put on his Christmas jumper that his mum bought ever year, endured Christmas Lunch, and stashed the jumper somewhere where it would never be found. This year, his usually black and dark room was full of Christmas lights, there were paper ribbons on the walls and he had changed the music playing in his earbuds to joyful singing of Christmas carols. He hummed 'Jingle Bells' under his breath as he ticked off the 23rd of December on his calendar, and was in the process of checking once again his wrapped (well, as best he could) presents, under the desk. Mostly Phil's, of course. Today was the day! Adrian, who was usually very excited for the time of year, had walked around in a permanent bad mood for the past week or so, so Dan was exceedingly surprised when Adrian opened his door with a small, wicked smile on his face.

"Dad wants you. Now." Adrian left the doorway as Dan opened his mouth to ask why, and the door slammed shut. Slowly, Dan got up.

Silly Dan, for believing things could really go so well. Selfish Dan, for allowing himself to be so happy and so vulnerable. Stupid Dan, for being so careless.


	6. Chapter 6 - Prison

**Chapter 6 – Prison**

Dan grabbed his phone and slid it in his pocket, as per habit. He opened his door and softly closed it, careful not to make any noise, for some reason. A metal weight, a beast was sitting on his heart, pressing it down, making every footstep heavier and harder to execute. He walked down the stairs, wincing as he forgot about the creaking fourth step and tread on it. The light was on in the kitchen and off in the living room, so turned toward the kitchen and opened the door. He remembered his every movement with painful precision, and knew that if he brushed his hand against his chest he would feel his heart leaping out of his ribcage, desperate to escape the beast. His throat was dry as he turned the handle and saw his father, standing by the kitchen counter.

"Hello, son." Dan's father said calmly.

"I've just been talking to Adrian." He paused slightly, turning fully towards Dan. "He came to me with a… concern of his. Who was that friend whose house you were going to, again? Did you mention a name?"

"I- I can't remember if I did.", Dan choked out.

"Well?"

"Phil. His name is Phil."

"See, Adrian reckons he knows some things about 'Phil' that I find interesting. Very interesting. Care to elaborate?"

Dan didn't answer. He opened his mouth but any sounds there may have been died in his dry throat.

"No?", Dan's father repeated. "Well, I guess I'll have to confirm it for myself."

With lightening fast movement that only a former athlete could accomplish, Dan's father grabbed Dan's slender hand with a meaty fist and tore away the sleeve. A smile spread across his features, and his grip on Dan's wrist increased, causing Dan to wince.

"It was all true… I shouldn't have even doubted it. The numbers have zeroed. And the faggot cuts himself, too! How fucking ugly."

Nothing like this had happened before, his father had always been mad, in a rage, and Dan knew that he'd have to calm down and sober up eventually. Dan panicked, reaching into his pocket and grabbing his phone.

"Let go! Please, let go, you're hurting me." Dan dialled 999, and just as his thumb was hovering over the call button he felt the device being slapped out of his hand. It fell on the tiled floor with a sickening crack, the battery fell out and pieces of the screen skidded under the counter.

He yanked Dan's arm, half-tearing it out of his socket, out of the room.

"Come with me, fag. I can't deal with you now." His tone never changed. Calm, measured. Dan had never seen this side of his father. It was so much worse. Tears prickled at his eyes, wide open and petrified, his feet tripped over each other as his father dragged him up the stairs and into his father's master bedroom.

"Stay here. Don't make any noise, nobody outside this house will hear it and it'll just annoy me. You don't want that, do you?"

His father shoved Dan into his en suite bathroom, sending him face-first into the sink. Dan heard the sound of a key turning in its lock and swivelled around to see a shut door. He never knew the en suite could be locked from the outside, it was a strange feature, the door probably wasn't a bathroom door.

A deep growl sounded behind the door, muted slightly but every bit as menacing.

"I'll kill you, you know. I'll fucking kill you."

Dan traced the lock, tried to turn the normal inside one and saw that they were two different bolts. Dan reached up to feel his nose, and his fingers came away red. He didn't do anything about it, just slumped down beside the bathtub and began to cry thick, heavy tears, and despite what his father had said about the noise he could not quell neither the sobs neither the spluttering. Because that was all he could do. Cry. After a while he reached into his pocket to find his iPod, but remembered that he had packed it in his rucksack, which was all ready for the trip. So he had nothing to shut the voices in his head up, no way of communicating, and no measure of time.

Phil paced his bedroom floor, up and down, as was his habit when worried. He looked up at his clock. Eleven o'clock. Why on earth wasn't Dan here? They had Skyped this morning, and Dan had been positively glowing with excitement - the happiest Phil had ever seen him, and it filled Phil with a warm joy. And Dan was hardly ever late. Phil had even offered to pick him up, so Dan wouldn't have to take the bus to his house, but Dan refused profusely. Come to think of it, Phil didn't even know Dan's address. His mum, when he had told her, had recommended calling him, and leaving him a message – maybe he was stuck in traffic? But Phil had already done that. The call went straight to voicemail. He could make neither head nor tails of it, and he was starting to go mad with the inability of doing anything. He straightened up and forced a smile, as his mother always told him would help. His whole family were downstairs, having fun, and Phil had excused himself to call Dan once more. They probably thought Dan was so rude, but Phil knew better. Dan hadn't turned up for a reason, a very good one, and he was dying to find out what it was.

Dan lay on the carpet of his father's master bedroom, in the dark, his blood sticking his matted fringe to his forehead. After the last session of abuse his father hadn't even bothered to drag him into the bathroom, and lock it - he was too drunk. Not like it helped Dan much, he couldn't have lifted a finger even if he'd wanted to, and any other movement came with the fear of disturbing his probably broken bones. The room reeked of alcohol, and Dan struggled to hold onto his last strands of consciousness. Why? Dan himself didn't know. That would make the pain go away. Through blurry eyesight he made out a figure creeping to his side. It was small, somehow even shrunken.

"Adrian?", Dan rasped through cracked lips.

"Dan." The voice was barely a whisper.

"You idiot."

"I brought you some food and water. Drink." A cold glass was pressed to Dan's mouth, but he refused to drink.

"You idiot.", he just repeated. "Go… he'll kill me… there's no return from this…."

"I'm so fucking sorry. He took my phone. Dan, I swear, I would've called someone by now."

"Check… If my phone works… in the kitchen… call… tell the…" but Dan couldn't say any more. His breathing became more laboured, and just at that moment Adrian heard something on the landing, so he darted out of the room. Black spots pressed on Dan's vision. He felt his eyes flutter, but forced them open. Survive.

Phil heard his phone ring, playing the childish Mario theme tune. He pounced on it and read the caller ID. Dan!

"Dan, thank god, I was beginning to get worried. What's the matt-", Phil gabbled out

"Shhhh,", the other end answered. It was most definitely not Dan.

"16 Absol Street, Crupville, CP5 8KQ. Qui-" It was rattled out quickly, a sentence learnt by heart, in a petrified, paranoid voice. The line went dead immediately. Phil grabbed a notepad and wrote out the address. Throwing on his coat, he raced downstairs and went out of the back door. He hesitated for just one moment, debating first asking his parents what to do, but threw caution to the wind and jumped into his car. Fumbling with the device he entered the address into the GPS navigator and set off, down the empty streets, just as the time sped into the early hours of Christmas Day.


	7. Chapter 7 - The Light Behind Your Eyes

**Chapter 7 – The Light Behind Your Eyes**

Dan's mother stood in the corridor

"Get the hell out of here! Do you hear me?", her husband roared. "I don't care where you go or what you do, I need this time to talk some sense into that faggot."

"Please, honey, why don't you calm down a little?" was the reply, in a trembling voice.

"Don't you DARE tell me what to do. Get out of my house, I don't want your filthy opinions in it." The man advanced towards her, and the knife in his hands glinted evilly.

"Let me at least take Adrian. He doesn't need to hear this."

"It'll make a man out of him. Get OUT!"

So a pale woman wearing nothing but a thin dress and high heels emerged from the house, and went wherever her eyes looked. After she realised she hadn't taken her phone, she searched for any 24 hour shops she could go into. Nothing was open – it was Christmas Eve. In the end, she took off her heels and sat on a bench in the park, curled up against the cold, bruises on her face and blisters on her feet, and she asked herself one question:

"When did it all go so wrong?"

The GPS said it was fifteen minutes to the address. Phil swore under his breath, something he would never usually do, and stepped on the gas, ignoring the lit 'twenty is plenty!' sign on the exit of his neighbourhood. Should he call PJ? Should he have asked Martyn to come with him? No, of course not, PJ was enjoying Christmas with his family and it would be too suspicious if Martyn left the house with Phil. Just how serious was this? Maybe it was an elaborate prank devised by Dan, but Phil doubted that very much. The voice on the phone was young, and Phil knew he had heard raw fear in it. Phil grabbed his phone with sweaty hands and called Dan again. No answer? Shit. Phil keyed in 999 on his phone, and left it on the dashboard, where it could be easily accessed. If police were needed and that boy had access to a phone, surely he would've called it… so either it wasn't dangerous and the police hadn't been summoned, or by now the police were there and so it was safe… Phil looked at his grim face in the mirror before glancing at his GPS.

"Take the next right and you will have reached your destination." The automated voice read out.

Phil swerved right, slammed on the brakes and opened the gate which had a sign hung on it with 'Portfer House' written on in fancy lettering. It was a fully detached house, a rarity in England. There was no police in sight, but that didn't reassure Phil as much as he had hoped it would. He walked up to the porch, tried the door handle and found it gave way easily, but before entering Phil did a quick reality check. Was this actually happening? Why exactly was he breaking and entering? Well, breaking-ish. Maybe he had fallen asleep on his bed and was having nightmares. However, Phil knew this wasn't true – he could feel the cold air on his cheeks the icy handle in his palm and the terrified pumping of his heart; he could see the puff of steam when he exhaled. Dreams, or nightmares, didn't come with such detail. Phil reached into the bottom of his well of courage and pulled it all up. This was it. He pressed down on the handle and silently, silently entered the house. It was almost pitch black inside. Phil took one step forward and felt his arm being grabbed by someone from the darkness. Phil was never that good at fighting, but he had been to a few forced judo lessons when he was younger, which had taught him two things – one, that if you can't fight, avoid doing so at all costs, and two, if you do have to fight, do not use judo. Kick and flail all you can. So Phil yanked back his arm, balled his fist and swung it into the darkness in front, where it came into contact with something warm and hard. There was a slight hissing noise and, after the tiniest of hesitations, Phil's opponent let go.

"Phil? I nearly let my reflexes have a go at you, goddamnit." The voice was barely a whisper, so quiet that Phil had to strain to make it out, but it was undeniably the voice from the phone-call.

"Who are you?"

"Shh! Keep your voice down. Do you have your phone?", the voice spoke again, just as quietly, but Phil could hear the tremor in it, even at this volume.

Phil brought his voice down and answered the question.

"Uh, yeah. Here… Oh, no. I left it on my dashboard. My car's open though, I forgot to lock it, I can go get it. What's happening?"

"I'll go get it. Don't use the goddamn door again, it's too loud. Please help Dan, do whatever you can to stall before I can get the police. He's in the room straight up the corridor, to your right. Please… This is all my fault, all of it."

With that, the boy opened the window, vaulted out of it soundlessly and ran. Phil again summoned all the courage from before, hurdled the stairs, four in one step, and wrenched open the door. The sight that met his eyes squeezed his heart, painfully, dreadfully.

He had found Dan, all right. He was propped up in a bed, his head lolled over, and Phil for an awful second presumed him dead, before he saw Dan's head look up towards the sound of the door opening. His mouth had been duct-taped, and his eyes widened in horror when he saw Phil. He at once started to try and struggle. Another man was in the room, holding a knife at Dan's wrist. Phil looked at him in pure terror. Dan had been kidnapped? Who was the other boy? Before Phil had time to formulate any plan, he gave in to his urge and flung himself at Dan's side, grabbing his hand, smiling at him, saying something soothing which later he could not recall. The man stood motionless for a while, surprised, and then let out the most haunting evil villain laugh Phil had ever heard in a movie. It was deranged, cruel, and so so loud. The man raised his fist, probably to knock Dan unconscious and deal with the intruder, before he had a different thought.

"You're Phil, correct?" The man whispered harshly.

"Y-yes." Phil stuttered.

"Speak up, BOY!", the man roared, and Phil shouted right back at him.

"YES!"

"Good… Then let's have the pleasure of hurting Philly boy right in front of you, fag. Would you like that, huh?"

Dan shouted something, but nobody understood it, as the duct tape prevented him from speaking.

Phil glanced did not look at the man. He did not look at Dan. He looked out of the window, and wondered what it would be like to experience high levels of pain – the closest he had come before was twisting his ankle. But the pain never came, and from that moment on, everything happened too fast.

Phil felt a warm body against him, and screamed when he saw that Dan had taken the blow and had a knife sticking out of him. Then came a crash, the breaking of china, and another boy screamed, and blood seeped from Dan's father's head, onto the carpet, pieces of a shattered vase lying around it. Only Dan did not scream. Phil fumbled with the duct tape, muttering a sorry before tearing it off Dan's mouth.

"DAN!", Phil screamed, rocking his head from side to side "Quickly, tell me what to do, do I pull the knife out? No, no I don't, I-"

"Phil…", Dan rasped. "Thank you… What did I ever do to deserve you?... I love you…"

And Phil saw the light go out of Dan's eyes as he shut them, and Phil held Dan's head as it relaxed, and Phil could not believe it, any of it, and he stopped crying. Because what was the point?

Soon, a second boy's sobbing joined the blare of police sirens.


	8. Chapter 8 - Perfect

**Chapter 8 - Perfect**

When the police arrived, through the open door, with their guns and jackets and loud voices, Phil held on to Dan even tighter. No person in the room could pull him away in a manner they deemed safe, so Phil sat there, motionless.

There was a bubble around him, one he had constructed, because he couldn't process anything from the outside world, and random phrases which he could not make sense of floated towards him.

"Young man? Excuse me, can you give us…"

"…yes, and then I came in and…"

"Phil, please tell me…"

"…through the window…"

"…a relative's phone number?"

Maybe Phil answered some questions. He couldn't remember.

Eventually, accompanied by shouted orders and brightly coloured medical equipment, the paramedics rushed into the room, and Phil let out a cry as they tried to take Dan away from him, so they lifted Phil onto a stretcher too, where he finally let go and fell unconscious. And all around, as they heard the shocking events of this Christmas Eve laid out before them, adults shook their head and felt themselves condemn the mess of a human being that lay before them.

* * *

Phil was sitting on his accustomed chair and listened to the beeping to which he was used to by now. He shifted the book on his lap to a more comfortable position, took away the bookmark and started reading.

"…he would be there all night, and he would be there when Jem waked up in the morning.".

He looked towards his right. "The end! What did you think?"

"I still thought it was kind of dull… There wasn't much plot, I mean."

"But! But Boo! And, and - ugh. I'll never get through to you, will I?"

Phil shut the book. "Now we've got that awful business of you never reading 'To Kill a Mockingbird' over, I've got to get you out of this place." Phil checked his watch. "We've got an hour before your therapist comes."

"But I don't _have_ to move…" Dan whined. "Look, I've got this lovely computer right in front of me..."

And there was, in fact, a computer in front of Dan, who was just visible under a mess of blankets and casts. One of his legs was hung up and bound in a cast, his left arm was in a sling, and (beneath his clothes) his shoulder was tightly bandaged up from a knife wound, but his smile was realer than it had been in many, many years.

Phil delved into his thoughts and reflected how much had changed since Christmas Day, when he was sitting, afraid, in a hospital room, a nurse telling him to calm down or he'd hurt himself. His family had come to see him, worried, but he wouldn't talk to any of them. Only when Martyn came to see him alone did Phil manage to squeeze out what had happened, in a way that didn't make Phil very proud. He was a nervous wreck. Later that day, a policewoman called Susan had come to talk to Phil. She was very nice, and asked him if he could describe Christmas Eve's occurrences in as much detail as he could muster. Apparently it was being used for Dan's dad's trial, the likely outcome of which, Susan told Phil, would unfortunately be him getting a place in a mental asylum, and not prison. At first, Phil couldn't answer. He was hit with so much information…. Like the fact that the kidnapper was Dan's dad? But, forcing himself to recount the events yet again, through tears and the nurse crossly looking in Susan's direction all through the interrogation, he told Susan what he could remember. Afterwards, his statement was pieced together with Adrian's, and eventually Dan's, to create a timeline of events. As Susan had predicted, this timeline got Dan's dad a secure place in a mental asylum. What was brought forward in court, summed up, was this _:_

 _Adrian found Dan's phone on the kitchen floor, just as predicted. He carried it into his room and revived it, and discovering its battery percentage to be just 1%. Seeing Phil's missed calls, he panicked and pressed the first button he saw – the speed dial to Phil. Then he rattled out his address and was just about to tell Phil to call 999 when the phone went dead, causing Adrian to have nothing more to do than try and find his dad's key chain, which contained the keys to the windows of the house and the front door key. He found them and opened the door just as Phil arrived at Dan's house, and stalled Dan's father from killing Dan (which, Dan revealed, was his intention just as Phil opened the door to the bedroom) just in time for the police to come. Mostly from Adrian then, as Phil was in shock, they discovered that Adrian's mum was missing, and a search party was sent out for her, which found her on a park bench. After that, everybody was taken to hospital and were still in the process of being treated._

It left out a lot, Phil knew, and he still he couldn't bear to look at the file which contained the statement. He didn't know how Dan coped, but tried to be with Dan every second he could. Dan's nurses reported violent outbursts, screaming, terrible nightmares, but when Phil was there Dan seemed to be more calm. Eventually the hospital even let Phil sleep with Dan, holding hands, and that seemed to quell the nightmares, too. Most of the time.

Five minutes later, Dan was in his wheelchair, in the park (or what Dan called the 'sanitary backyard') of the hospital.

"Hissssss."

"Dan, you're not a vampire - the sun doesn't _actually_ hurt you. And you need the fresh air!"

"Hisssssssssssss!"

"You utter dork." Phil cracked a smile and sat down beside Dan on a bench.

"You're ruining my aesthetic! Where did all my cherished darkness go…"

"Ah, well, I have the power to wheel you anywhere I want now. Anywhere… The choices…"

"Phil!" Dan hit him playfully, and the two sat in silence for a while, their hands laced together.

* * *

"You do know he never loved you, right?" **slap** "It was all a lie." The figure leered, and hit Dan again. "He doesn't and will not love you!"

Dan forced out words through his dry throat. "No… Never…"

"Because there is NO SUCH THING AS GAY!" **slap** "He took pity on you, because you're weak. Because you're useless. You're so stupid, not to have realised it yet…" **slap**

"I'm not…"

"Don't worry, I'll make you realise." **s** **lap** "And when I'm done with you, you won't be able to tell a soul what I did to you, and you won't see lover boy ever again."

"NO!" Dan screamed, and then someone was shaking him, and he resisted, he fought back, until he opened his eyes to discern who the someone was. It was Phil. Dan snapped, and the tears came in a flood. Phil wrapped a blanket around him, and hugged him gently, rubbing his back and making meaningless, comforting noises at him.

"Was it..?" Phil let the question hang in the air. They both knew what the other was thinking about.

"It was him again, it was that nightmare, I can't stop it. It's been years, I can't stop it.", Dan sobbed.

"Dan, I love you. I love you forever. And nothing and nobody can take you away from me."

"I know, Phil."

They sat, hugging, before Dan remarked "Its Christmas today."

"Yep. Since we're both awake, why don't we go downstairs and put the presents underneath the tree?"

Along with all his other presents to what Phil liked to call 'Dan's adopted family', Dan took a wrapped box with a glass bird in, and an engraving on the bottom of it.

'I love you more than there are stars in the sky and fish in the sea, my life-saver. To add to your collection :)'

After setting down their presents, Phil pulled Dan to the corner.

"Look up. Mistletoe."

However, before Dan had the chance to do so, Phil wrapped his arms around Dan's waist and gently, tenderly, kissed him, once, twice, and even though Dan had to admit – if he was broken, and he had still had Phil – it didn't matter so much. Life was as perfect as he could have imagined some years ago.

~The End~

 **Author's Note:**

 **Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it :) I do appreciate reviews very very much, so if you have time please write one! It'll mean the world to me! (criticism is not just welcome, but encouraged. I need to improve!)**

 **~C &C**


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